


Friendship and Adventure

by fieldofyellowdandelions



Category: Tintin (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2809565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieldofyellowdandelions/pseuds/fieldofyellowdandelions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Captain Haddock helps Tintin move to Marlinspike Hall and wants to talk about distracting ladies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendship and Adventure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cdocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdocks/gifts).



> The prompt cdocks provided was “a character-centric asexual!aromantic!Tintin fic is my heart's desire -- even if it's not the point of the story, something explaining how it is for Tintin being ace as a high-profile, much-adored boy reporter is all I long for”. Not sure if this is what they wanted but I hope they like it nonetheless.

“Well, that seems to be the last of it,” Tintin said, taking a glance around the nearly empty second floor apartment at 26 Labrador Road. A pile of boxes and suitcases three feet high were stacked neatly next to the front door, waiting to be carried downstairs to the moving truck. “Though I suppose we’d better give the place a once over and make sure we didn’t leave anything behind, eh Snowy.”

  
Snowy, curled up under the now empty desk, gave a whine. “Now there Snowy,” Tintin said, kneeling down and giving the dog a pet, “None of that. You’ll like living at Marlinspike Hall just fine. ”

  
Snowy just hid his head under a paw in what only could be described as a sulk. Sighing, Tintin stood back up and headed to the kitchen. He couldn’t blame Snowy for being upset. This was the only home he had ever known.It was this very apartment building that Tintin had brought Snowy, then a tiny, dirty ball of fluff he had found abandoned in a city alleyway.

  
Tintin knew he’d miss the apartment too. However, it was for the best. Unfortunately, sometime during his latest adventure in Khemed, his home address had accidently been released to the public. Ever since he had returned home, he had inundated with uninvited guests and had not had a single moment of peace since. To be honest, it all came a quite a shock. He knew his news articles were well received and, yes, he did get a fair share of mail, written to him care of his editor, but the shear number of strangers who just showed up, day and night, asking for photographs and autographs was truly astounding.

  
It wasn’t in his nature to turn anyone away and that was half the problem. He’d invite them in for coffee and chat. Over all, they were nice people (excepting, of course, that odd couple who had attempted to kidnap him for his investigative reporting into black market sheep ), and he very much enjoyed talking with them, sharing his adventures and listening to theirs.

  
However, he did have to work. He was a reporter, which meant he did need to occasionally sit down at his typewriter and actually write a story to file with his editor. The constant distractions were making it extremely difficult to get any work done.  
It had been Captain Haddock who had suggested a solution.

  
“Why don’t you move here,” the Captain had offered three weeks ago, sipping Loch Lomond and smoking a cigar, “and let Nestor handle it. There’s more than enough room for that mangy mutt of yours to run around and it’s quiet enough. The Professor only seems to blow himself up every other day or so.”

  
And no doubt Mrs. Finch would be pleased to see us go, Tintin thought to himself, looking through the kitchen cupboard for any stray dishes, no matter what she says about how much she’ll miss us. Between the kidnapping attempts and the Thompsons accidentally shooting holes in the wall with their pistols, her poor nerves had been frayed far beyond what was healthy.

  
"Blistering Barnacles!” Haddock exclaimed as he clomped back into the apartment and made straight for the kitchen, “lugging boxes is thirsty work. Good thing I stashed a nip in your ice box.”

  
“I’m pleased and all you’ll be moving to Marlinspike Hall,” Haddock said, after taking a swig of his whiskey straight from the bottle, “But you do have a lot of stuff.”

  
“A person does tend to collect when they live in one place long enough,” Tintin replied, closing the last cupboard door, “Thank you again for helping. I could have hired movers.”

  
“Nonsense. What are friends for? Besides it gets the blood moving.” The Captain took another gulp, “It’ll be nice having you out at Marlinspike. You bloody well almost live there now as it is. It’ll be quiet enough there but no doubt you’ll miss all the ladies coming round.”  
“I’ll miss everyone. It’s been wonderful meeting so many different people.”

  
“Yes, but the ladies, they’re especially distracting, if you know what I mean.”

  
“They’re nice enough, I guess.”

  
“Nice?! Nice, he says,” Haddock chortled, “Is that all you’ve got to say?”

  
Tintin could only give a non-committal shrug. What was he supposed to say?

  
There was a timid knock on the apartment door and Tintin took the opportunity to extract himself from the conversation. It was probably Mrs. Finch come to see when she could collect the key from him. However, when he opened the door it was not Mrs. Finch on the other side but a slim young man, who couldn’t yet be twenty, with tawny hair and spectacles clutching what appeared to be a scrap book.

  
“Mr. Tintin?” the young man asked.

  
“Yes,” Tintin replied, already having an inkling at what young man wanted, “Can I help you?”

  
The young man thrust the scrap book at Tintin, gasping out “Couldyousignmybook?”

  
"Thundering Typhoons!” the captain bellowed, storming out of the kitchen, “Can’t you see the man is busy!? Can’t you see you’re driving him out of his home, you villainous vulture!?”

  
“No, it’s okay,” Tintin said to Haddock, “Really, it’s alright. I don’t mind at all. Could look into the bedroom and make sure everything is out for me?”

  
Haddock scowled but did as he was asked and Tintin turned back to the obviously started young man. “Sorry about that. He can be overprotective sometimes. I’d love to sign your book for you. What’s your name?”

  
“Fredrik, sir.”

  
“Fredrik.” Tintin said, opening the first page of the book, revealing a collection of his newspaper articles and pictures, “Is it okay if I sign on the inside cover?”

  
When the young man nodded eagerly, Tintin took out the ballpoint pen that he had taken to carrying around with him at all times, signed the cover and handed it back.

  
“Oh, thank you so much,” Fredrik gushed, clutching the book to his chest, “I really am your greatest fan. I’ve read every single article you’ve ever wrote. Your Inca adventure was so thrilling. You’re so brave and smart and amazing. And you smell so good.”

  
“Well, thank you very much. I wish I could invite to chat but everything’s packed and I have an irate sea captain in my bedroom.” Tintin held out his hand to shake, “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  
Beaming bright red, Fredrik took the out stretched hand and gave a shake, “It was a pleasure to meet you too.”

  
“He seemed nice chap.” Tintin said, closing the door and turning back into the room to face the Captain who was standing in the hallway, “See? Men are just as distracting as women.”

  
“But you don’t find the girls more distracting?”

  
“Sometimes they wear perfume that makes my eyes water and they can sometimes be awfully touchy, but on the whole, no, not really.”

  
The Captain frowned and, after a moment’s pause, leaned forward and whispered, rather conspiratorially, “Are you a molly?”

  
“Am I a what?”

  
“A flit, a fruit, a swish, a nelly, a queer, a fairy, a knob jockey, a backdoor bandit, a three letter man, a friend of Dorothy! By God man, are you a homosexual?!”

  
Tintin took a step back and sat on one of the boxes sitting by the door, “Well, that’s a blunt question.”

  
“There’s no shame in it. These things happen. Sometimes a man gets lonely on a boat. And sometimes you don’t need to be on a boat.”

  
“I appreciate that but I’m not a homosexual.”

  
“Are you sure?”

  
“Pretty sure.”

  
“Well, if you aren’t fond of the ladies and you aren’t fond of the men, who are you fond of?”

  
“I’m not really fond of anybody.”

  
“Why heavens not?!”

  
Why not, indeed? That was a question he had asked himself more than once and, though he had an answer, he’d never actually shared it with anyone before.

  
“It’s always been this way, all my life. I’ve always been more interested in having adventures and meeting new people. I have no desire for a girlfriend or a boyfriend. I have Snowy and I have you and the professor and the Thompsons. And that’s enough for me.”

  
The Captain, after a long moment of appearing to be in deep thought as he contemplated his next words carefully, “Well,” he finally said, “at least you’ll never get the clap.”

  
Tintin gave a laugh. “There’s that. Now how about we get the rest of these boxes down to the truck. I still need to patch up the bullet hole in the hallway before I hand the keys back to Mrs. Finch.”

  
FIN

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to my beta for her invaluable help and support in writing this story.


End file.
